Journal
by Knives'Ghostwriter
Summary: A traveler finds a journal in the old ruins of the Order (Post Black Order timeline, Sequel to Father's son story line) Rated for some language Gender neutral pronouns, "Al's" Journal Log style writing/rambling


I've never been very good at things like this, so I hope I don't bore you to death. Not that anyone else is going to read this anyway... But I'm bored and ran out of games to play, and people to play them with.

My teachers always say journals are a good way to let out things that otherwise turn into unsavory ideas/thoughts so consider this my outlet.

Please, don't judge me for anything that might end up in this book. (several things were scribbled out, and a note jotted in the margin to get whiteout "or something" ) I can't explain fully why or what I might write but please just, if anyone reads this, read it with an open mind.

For all intent and purposes, they have deemed me "Vampire" though it's not the truth. The truth seems, I am a Parasite, and if you are reading this you are aware of what I mean when I say I am not an Exorcist but rather a Parasite. No one understands why or how, at least if anyone can they aren't telling me anything. Heaven forbid the one effected by their condition be aware of what that condition is after all, but then I guess most adults act that way when it comes to kids...

Shit, where are my manners? Hi, (there were several false starts and scribbled out text) people tend to have issues properly pronouncing my name so call me Al. I'll be 17 in a few months and stay here during the summers, when school is on break, so there might be large gaps. I don't take this book with me because this just seems right that I have something here during the off hours when I'm not on the road, and I don't want to risk losing this in case I put something down I need to remember.

Plus I don't need this distraction when I'm on the hunt. That sounds so bad. Let me explain, I might not be an Exorcist but I'm still part of the Black Order and I still play the roll of Exorcist. I hunt the Akuma the same as the others, but unlike the others they are my prey, not just my mission.

(the last of the page was badly smeared, as if the book was slammed shut while the ink was wet but enough of it was readable to make the finder of it frown) a freak among Exorcists, and I always will be.

Closing the book, the finder of it frowned and set it back behind the loose brick they'd discovered it behind. "Poor kid," was mumbled before they settled in to sleep.

(The next several pages of the book were torn out, jagged, angry, one even looked to have be tapped back just after, as if amending a mistake.) I fucked up again, I lost it again, I hate this, why do I have to be such a freak? Lavi damn near lost his arm because of me... Why can't I keep my cool when I'm hunting? Why can't I just fucking THINK?! How does Dad deal with this? I have to figure out how to think and not lose it when- (the next several lines were just scrawled out, angry lines going through nothing as if anger took over, probably the moment the other pages were torn out. There were water stains across the edge of the page as if someone had started crying) I have to stay in control, I have to figure out how to stay in control.

The book was put back and not touched for weeks as the finder went to work taking images of the building and searching for other interesting documents.

The finder jolted, dropping the book the next time it was opened, bloody finger prints dotting and smearing the next few pages. (a list of wounds and care written on them)

Right arm, bicep, deep cut, damaged muscle, sutured, braced (3 hours jotted down beside it in a different color as if added afterword)

Abdomen, kidney, through and through, blunt object (rebar scrawled with a question mark next to it barely scratched out) flag pole (2 hours was listed along with mention of removal of kidney)

(several of the pages were smeared too badly with blood and ink to make out)

I stopped going to the nurses years ago, I gave up. Nothing works anymore. It all hurts anyway. Might as well take care of it myself, I know when I need a break, the nurses never pay any attention anymore.

Heading home in the morning, back to school it is. It's funny, I miss this place when I'm away but tend to hate it by the time I get back, but then again, wouldn't you at this point?

The finder of the book closed it, disregarding the following pages listing events and 'hunts' the boy had gone through outside of the building. "Poor kid," was all they could say.

"So thirsty" was scrawled by obviously shaking hands across the next page, making the finder of it frown at the intensity of it before it smeared as if the writer had swiped a hand over it when they slammed it shut.

(listed on the next page was another list of injuries)

(30 minutes listed beside everything while the finder attempted to gulp down the bile trying to rise at the extent of the injuries.)

No bandages needed

Not thirsty anymore (ended the list)

The book was set down, the finder of it leaving it where it dropped from shaking hands as they left the room, needing fresh air. And possibly a drink, or several.

(The next pages had crudely scribbled pictures in them. A map it seemed) I swear this place changes... I never can seem to find my way back the same way.

When the finder of the book checked the hall and the rooms nearby and the proportions of the ones in the picture they instantly knew the writer didn't mean their own room...

Day 3 they gave up trying to find the location the maps gave, mainly due to unstable halls and collapsed corridors.

I can't believe it's been 2 years since I've been here (was how the next passage started) but I'm finally out of school. It's only an associates but who gives a fuck. I've got enough languages in my head to at least attempt communication without Finders having to be involved or carrying around a damn English to Whatever in my pack. Might as well put my linguistics to some use after all, what with always traveling. I hope Gigi isn't too mad, she must have been so lonely with us gone. We've all been permanently assigned back home, as there aren't many of us that live on that side of the pond but... I still should have tried to make it back more while I was in school. But they never called me back, they must not have had any trouble with her.

The finder of the book smiled, at the next passage.

Gigi made a mess of her poor bear, don't get me wrong I like sewing, I like keeping my hands busy, but god I hate needles... And of course the fact that regardless you always seem to bleed all over everything when you tap yourself with the damn things.

At least I have good company. Gigi stayed close, chatting about updates in the Order. At least she didn't get mad or feel lonely while I was gone. No one else seems to even know she exists it seems.

East corridor collapsed, again! I wish they had a better way of fixing this other than "Anyone strong lend a hand"... Took all day clearing it seeing as how I'm the only one able to lift boulders at the moment. (The finder of the book just shook their head and smirked at the grit and dust on the page.) Seriously of all the stuff the Science Department has no one has a jack? I mean come on!

Again? Seriously a FUCKING gain? Looks like I'm going out the window to get out of my room... (The finder of the book tilted their head at the string of obviously non-English words following, unsure their meaning) Looks like I'll be rebuilding the corridor... and make sure Robert doesn't freak out next door. Spoke too soon I can already hear him yelling my name. Damnit Komui I thought you fixed the goddamn ceiling!

The finder of the book blinked at the small window in the room, stepping up to look out and gulping at the drop, before returning to the book, noticing there were many more entries and sighing in relief, the kid had made it out safely, somehow.

I'm officially changing my profession, if you'd call it that, to construction... This place is falling apart. (There was a list of locations and work done over what looked like several weeks under it, most of which were passages long since blocked off due to instability or collapse.)

Too bad there were no dates in the journal, the finder of it thought, I'd have an idea of when any of this happened.

(The next several pages were ripped out, a large gap in the spine signified that dozens at least had been torn out at once making the finder wonder why.)

Condition update, I haven't noticed any changes since I was 19, I'm starting to worry. All the others are starting to show age, though I think it's the work that caused the early signs of aging, but I haven't even noticed anything change in me. Not even a gray hair, and Robert has several by now... By 25 I should have noticed something, right? Wrinkles, gray hair something, right?

I don't know why I'm still leaving this here... I don't come back for years at a time anymore. Oh well, I guess I'm a creature of habit by now. I guess it's just a safe haven in a warzone. Just like this will always be my room when I come back.

The finder of the book decided to take another break at the desperate scribbling on the next page.

Don't put me in the ground. (Over and over it was scrawled everywhere, a corner of the page was torn off, the writing of it was so forceful some of it transferred to the next several pages to be imprinted with the words)

Sorry about the breakdown (the finder read when they finally returned to the book) I just got a condition update in the worst possible way.

For the record, stopped heart does not mean dead. Neither does not breathing.

Just, don't put me in the ground again. It's dark, and cold and (the finder's jaw was gaping open when they realized what the boy was describing) just don't put me in the ground again!

When the finder returned to the book they noticed a dramatic penmanship change, as if the writer hadn't taken up a pen in awhile.

Forgive me but this seems to be a condition log at this point more than anything. But here it is, should anyone find it or be able to help me figure out how or why-

Condition update. Age 30

No signs of any kind of aging, aside from hair growth and mental development.

Assimilationregeneration.

Parts assimilated, Right eye, left shin-knee to ankle, left arm -shoulder to elbow, 4 toes on right foot-sans pinky,

Assimilation takes less time than full regeneration. Less painful and takes less energy to heal.

Uncertain at this point how long parts are viable to assimilate.

The finder closed the book and blinked, "Assimilation vs regeneration?" Who was this kid, or rather adult at this point in the book.

Age 45

Condition update

Akuma poisoning still possible, easily neutralized.

Assimilation update, parts viable regardless (something was scribbled out, making the finder blink and try to squint through the markings to see the words)

Parts assimilated left hand-sans fingers, liver, kidney, stomach, 6 ribs-mostly right side, lung -right side, multiple muscle grafting but as I was not aware or breathing at the time I am unsure where all they were grafted.

I am still a Parasite, regardless. Even if I have been a true Exorcist for all these years I am still just a parasite.

Condition update

Age 50

The only reason I'm here was to bring them back for the records and for their bodies to be sent home properly to their family. Here it is.

Assimilation update: Right arm- shoulder to wrist- vines & heart-numbering 2

Viability update: Assimilation=ability to wield weapon

Ability update: Maneater, Claymore

(the rest of the page was empty save for the familiar splotches of dried droplets of water.

"I'm so sorry" was all that was written on the following page.

"Parasite, monster, freak" was repeatedly scrawled on the next.

A few drinks were involved before they could take up the book again

Age 57

Assimilation update: Right eye, again, 3 fingers-right hand- last 3, right foot

Ability update Judgment, Jubilation

No change in age. No change in condition.

Parts always viable, regardless

Age 65

(the finder chuckled at the words under it)

Too old for this shit, shouldn't I be retired by now?

Assimilation update: 2 limbs added-upper back

Ability update: Web of fate

Ability viable, regardless of Accomidator's status

Age 73

Assimilation update: Parts always viable, always

(the finder gasped at the massive list that followed, at one point making them wonder if anything remained of the writer at that point)

Ability update: Innocence evolved, Invocation discovered. Requiem of the Fallen

The book was put back in the hiding place it was found when the last of the pages had finally been read.

"No need for anyone else to suffer," it read at the very end, "If 1 can manipulate them all, wield them all no other must suffer as we have. One final weapon in this war that never ends. The only one needed. No more Innocence, no more Accomidators, no more innocent peaceful lives forced into fighting a war they had no part in creating. If it must be me then, so be it."

No dates, not even a real name, just a nickname to go by, they had no hope of ever finding out who this person was. Just a ghost, writings left among ruins of some ancient cult no one even remembers the name of, well at least now they knew the name of it. The Black Order is what the first pages read. Some cult that apparently had no qualm in sending children to battle something apparently very powerful. The finder of the book packed up their things and took down a few notes of their own, wondering for a moment and deciding against taking the book with them. They had enough images of it saved as proof and it's not like they couldn't find it again if they needed too.

It took only a few minutes to gather their pack up and get ready to make the trek down the cliff. They'd spent more than enough time here.

Their head shot up when they heard the sound of something crumbling in the hall and they panicked for a moment, fearing the corridor might cave in, but the soft sound stopped just as quickly. They sighed in relief and then a moment of realization hit them and they grabbed for the hidden book, fearing they'd loose the ability to find it again if the hall crumbled like so much of the building had already. They didn't even bother stuffing it into their pack, just shoved it under their arm and headed for the door, instinct pushing them to leave the decrepit building. They stopped short when the door started swinging open on its own, their heart dropped when the young, tall, man blinked at them.

"What are you doing in my room?"


End file.
